Don’t forget to leave some Power Stones.
— Ten minutes later, Ian walked out of Gringotts with Harry on his back, chatting and laughing freely alongside Blair.
This shocking scene left the other Aurors standing behind them completely dumbfounded.
“Is the boss feeling alright?
I’ve never seen her get this close to any man before!” one of the Aurors marvelled under his breath to his two companions.
Another nodded repeatedly, his face a picture of total agreement.
“Right?
I’ve never seen her like this either.
Is this really the same ‘Iron Lady’ from the Department?” Only the oldest Auror among them shook his head at their whispering, a fond, knowing smile spreading across his face.
What the three of them didn’t realize was that Blair—whom they dubbed the “Iron Lady”—was currently imagining tearing all three of them limb from limb.
Even so, Blair maintained a flawless, graceful smile, casually responding to Ian’s banter.
Ian, naturally, had overheard the conversation behind them.
Though inwardly amused, his expression remained entirely impassive.
He hadn’t expected to run into an old acquaintance here either.
Indeed, Ian and Blair knew each other.
To be precise, both of them were alumni from Hufflepuff and had even been in the exact same year.
However, Ian had left Britain right after graduation, whereas Blair had gone on to qualify as an Auror.
“So…
you have a kid now?” Perhaps embarrassed that an old classmate she hadn’t seen in years had caught a glimpse of her hidden side, Blair deftly shifted the conversation to Harry.
Ian glanced at Harry, who was fast asleep on his back, and shook his head.
“Hardly.
He’s my sister’s boy, as you well know.” In truth, Blair hadn’t known.
She awkwardly brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, about to offer a hasty recovery, when realization suddenly struck her.
Her eyes widened as she stared at the lock of hair on Harry’s forehead.
“Merlin’s beard…
then he’s—” “Yes, it’s him,” Ian cut her off quickly.
He wasn’t ready to broadcast Harry’s presence to the world just yet.
Even though practically everyone in the wizarding world knew that this was the year the “Boy Who Lived” would be entering Hogwarts.
No one ever doubted whether Harry might be a Squib.
After ten years of propaganda from the Ministry of Magic, Harry had been elevated to a grand symbol for this generation—a symbol the magical community desperately needed.
Ian, however, didn’t view it that way.
To him, it was little more than a heavy chain.
Before Harry was truly ready, Ian didn’t want him shouldering such a burden—even if there was only a month left before school started.
Blair covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes still drawn irresistibly toward Harry.
She instinctively reached out, wanting to brush back Harry’s bangs, but seeing the quiet refusal in her old classmate’s eyes, she awkwardly pulled her hand back.
Because of this subtle interlude, the atmosphere between them turned a bit delicate.
After a few moments of silence, Blair took a soft breath and lowered her voice.
“I’m sorry.
That was foolish of me.
I just…
I never expected to meet him like this.” Ian adjusted his hold on Harry, his tone softening.
“I understand.
It’s just not the right time yet.” Blair nodded, falling silent once more.
And so, the two walked side by side down the street, neither saying another word.
It was only when they reached the storefront of Ollivanders that Ian paused.
He turned his head to look at the handsome, spirited girl beside him, a slight smile touching his lips.
“Well, Blair, I’ll stop here.
I still need to take him inside to choose a wand.” Hearing this, Blair glanced at the shop behind him and gave a crisp nod, her usual sharp, efficient demeanor instantly returning.
“Of course…
picking a wand is what every young wizard looks forward to most.
Mr.
Ollivander’s craftsmanship is as trustworthy as ever after all these years.” With that, she cast a brief glance at Harry on Ian’s back, quietly wished them good luck, and turned around with effortless grace to walk away.
Ian stood in place, watching her retreating figure, his thoughts unknown.
“You know, maybe you should ask that lady out for a drink?” A faint, slightly weak voice chimed in near Ian’s ear.
Ian didn’t seem surprised at all that Harry was awake.
He simply turned his head to look at him, his gaze holding an inscrutably strange expression.
If he remembered correctly, this kid’s own romantic path had been anything but smooth—and here he was, playing relationship counselor.
Harry felt his skin crawl under Ian’s bizarre stare.
Seizing the moment, he slid down from Ian’s back and planted his feet firmly on the ground.
Feeling self-conscious, Harry adjusted his glasses, his eyes darting around until they landed on the faded sign above: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.
His eyes lit up instantly.
He couldn’t resist leaning closer, peering through the shop window at a lone wand resting on a faded purple velvet cushion inside.
“Uncle, is this the wand shop you were talking about?” Harry asked in a lively tone, his energy seemingly restored.
“Mhm,” Ian nodded.
“This is the largest and most prestigious wand shop in all of Britain.
Every young wizard entering Hogwarts gets their very own wand right here.” “Harry, as I told you before, a wand is a wizard’s most important partner in life.
She’ll be even closer to you than a future lover.
So, what are you waiting for?
Keep up!” The shop bell chimed merrily as Ian pushed the door open and stepped inside first.
“Good afternoon…” Mr.
Ollivander’s soft, airy voice greeted them from within the shop.
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, Ian and Harry had finally gathered everything on the Hogwarts supply list.
Oh, and that included a snow-white little lady—Hedwig the snowy owl.
Just as in the original timeline, the wand Harry chose was the eleven-inch holly wand with a core made from the feather of the very same phoenix that supplied Voldemort’s wand.
Their bound fate remained unaltered despite Ian’s presence.
Harry, of course, was oblivious to any of this.
At this moment, he had followed Ian to the final destination of their trip—the place where he would be living from now on: Godric’s Hollow.
This was the most famous wizarding village in Britain, named after Godric Gryffindor, who was said to have been born here.
In the northwestern part of Godric’s Hollow, Harry stood looking at an empty plot of land with an expression of complete utter confusion.
Aside from a few odd-looking stones, there was nothing here—certainly no residence like the one Ian had described.
He turned back to look at Ian, hesitating.
“Uncle…
are we sleeping outside tonight?” Ian offered no verbal explanation.
Instead, he simply tapped his wand toward the air above the empty plot.
“Number 16, Godric’s Hollow!” Ian spoke the address in a low, clear voice—just loud enough for Harry to hear.
Then, a breathtaking sight unfolded.
It was as if a grand curtain were being slowly drawn back; behind it, a massive manor gradually materialized out of thin air.
“This…” Harry’s eyes went wide as he stared at the manor appearing before him, his face filled with sheer disbelief.
Magic!
Every single time, it managed to deliver a whole new wonder to him!
“The Fidelius Charm!” Ian said as he started walking toward the manor gates, explaining to Harry as they went.
“An advanced defensive spell used to conceal a specific secret deep within the soul of a designated Secret-Keeper.
Unless the Secret-Keeper actively divulges it, no one else can learn the secret through any means whatsoever.” “This is all knowledge you will learn in the future.” Harry broke into a light jog to keep pace with Ian, quietly etching his uncle’s lesson into his memory.
With the explanation of the Fidelius Charm complete, the two finally crossed the threshold and stepped into the manor grounds.
Huge!
That was Harry’s very first impression upon stepping inside.
The first thing that caught his eye was a grand villa—no, calling it a villa was entirely inadequate; describing it as a castle was far more fitting.
It sat there quietly like a sleeping giant beast.
A pathway paved with blue slate extended all the way from the front gates to the castle entrance.
Likely due to a lack of maintenance for many years, the slates were covered in thick green moss.
In front of the castle sat a small fountain, water cascading into the air and catching the setting sun to form a delicate, faintly shimmering rainbow.
Harry suddenly felt a wave of helpless awkwardness.
For as long as he could remember, he had lived in a tiny cupboard under the stairs that barely fit a single bed.
Being suddenly thrust into a grand castle-like manor was making him feel deeply out of place.
Lost in a mix of anxiety and uncertainty, Harry trailed closely behind Ian into the ancient structure.
The interior followed a traditional architectural style.
The ground floor featured an entrance hall with a ceiling nearly ten meters high.
The walls here were paved with polished obsidian that shone like mirrors, coldly reflecting the flickering candlelight.
A massive, sweeping staircase coiled upward like a dragon’s spine, piercing into the shadows of the second floor.
Its banisters were made of intricately carved ebony—subtle, dark, and luxurious.
Deep within the hall sat a grand fireplace.
Ian was currently sitting on a wooden sofa in front of it, while a strange-looking creature served him a freshly brewed cup of tea.
Harry stole a curious glance at the creature, surprised to find that the tiny figure shared quite a few features with the goblins at Gringotts.
“This is Pudding, a house-elf.
He handles all the chores in the house.
You can think of him as the butler of the manor.” Ian introduced Pudding to Harry before turning to give instructions to the house-elf: “This is Harry.
From now on, he is a young master of this home.
Aside from the underground library, he has the same authority as I do!” Upon hearing Ian’s words, Pudding instantly darted over to stand before Harry.
“Pudding greets Young Master Harry!” With that, he bowed deeply at a ninety-degree angle, his long nose coming within an inch of touching the floorboards.
Frightened by the dramatic greeting, Harry took a quick step back, waving his hands frantically.
“I-I’m not any kind of young master!” “Does Young Master Harry hate Pudding?!” Hearing Harry’s words, Pudding’s huge eyes welled up with tears instantaneously.
He grabbed his own large head and made as if to smash it violently against the stone fireplace.
“Naughty Pudding!
Bad Pudding!
Making Young Master hate you!
Pudding must punish himself!” To be completely honest, the scene was downright terrifying.
Even the look Harry directed at Ian turned distinctly strange.
I can’t believe you’re this kind of person!
Harry’s eyes clearly conveyed.
“Pudding!
Stop!” Ian shouted, cutting off the house-elf’s self-harming act.
He rubbed his temples in frustration and waved a hand.
“You may step down for now.
I don’t need you here at the moment.” Pudding cast a pitiful, tearful glance at Ian.
Seeing the dismissive hand wave, he finally hobbled away in tears, quietly muttering insults at himself with every step.
Only now did Harry notice that Pudding was wearing what appeared to be an old tablecloth repurposed into makeshift clothing—an attire that looked strikingly out of place inside such a magnificent mansion.
“Uncle, what was that about…?” Hesitating, Harry turned to look at Ian.
“Just call me Ian,” Ian corrected Harry’s title, pointing to the sofa to gesture for him to sit down.
After a brief pause, Harry said nothing more.
He simply nodded and sat down stiffly on the sofa across from Ian.